


The Best Worst Thing That Hasn’t Happened To You Yet

by iamjacksblindrage



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky is an art blogger, F/M, First Meetings, He and Steve live across the hall from Sam and Riley, M/M, Maria and Nat are cute as hell and own a coffee shop, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamjacksblindrage/pseuds/iamjacksblindrage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the hot new neighbor is actually the blogger that Sam has a massive crush on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Worst Thing That Hasn’t Happened To You Yet

**Author's Note:**

> For [im-up-all-night-to-save-bucky](im-up-all-night-to-save-bucky.tumblr.com)

Sam had been, unfortunately, introduced to Tumblr by Riley. He cursed his roommates existence every single day since, because, goddamnit, he was a working adult, he didn’t have time to get caught up browsing Tumblr until the early hours of the morning. It was probably the worst thing Riley had done to him since they’d moved in together, home fresh off a tour in Afghanistan, nearly 4 years ago.

He had stumbled upon thewintersoldier’s blog one night because of Riley. His jerk of a roommate had reblogged the most amazing piece of art he had seen one night, and Sam had fallen in love. He spent 3 hours, just that night, scrolling through thewintersoldier’s blog. thewintersoldier worked mostly in inks, both black and colors. They were gorgeous portraits of who Sam assumed were friends and family. There were several of a blond man with ridiculously chiseled features, and a few more of a woman with bright red hair. Most of the rest are pretty miscellaneous.

Sam has been pretty disappointed from the get-go, because thewintersoldier flat out refused to post pictures of himself on his blog. Every time someone asked him for a selfie, he’d answer with a picture of a dog. It was the same dog every time, so Sam assumed it was his. It was a white pit bull that always looked like the absolute sweetest dog on the face of the planet. Sam learned a lot about thewintersoldier just by the answers he gives to asks he gets. He’s a veteran, too, served in the army with his best friend. He never went to college, enlisted straight out of high school, and doesn’t have a real job at the present, just bartends on the weekends. He has three siblings, all of them younger. He’s so completely endearing when he gets flustered as well, denies that his art is any good to everyone’s dismay, and fights against letting people make him feel important. Riley makes fun of how Sam pines over thewintersoldier.

Sam has been following thewintersoldier for about 6 months when the new neighbors move in across the hall. Riley and Sam go over to meet them when their moving in the last of their boxes. The blond has four boxes cradled against his chest, and the brunette has one tucked under his right arm.

“Hey,” Riley greeted as the two men reached the landing outside their apartments. “You guys need a hand?”

“Yeah, I could use another hand,” the brunette says with a smirk, ducking into the open apartment.

“Buck!” the blond yells after him, indignant. “Could you, please, that would be so much help.” Sam and Riley both ducked forward and took a box from the blond, following him inside. They just set the boxes in the living room, where the rest of the boxes are still stacked. Across the room, the brunette has shed his jacket, leaving his loose left sleeve to hang against his side. Sam suddenly gets the joke.

The blond, a huge man, at least 6 foot tall and 250 pounds, offers his hand towards Sam first. Sam takes it, before letting Riley step up to shake his hand.

“I’m Steve,” he greets with a bright smile. Sam thinks he looks like an overgrown Labrador puppy. “This is my roommate Bucky.” Bucky doesn’t approach, but waves from where he’s digging into one of the boxes.

“Buck, come be social,” Steve warns, and the man stands, offers his right hand up to Sam and Riley in turn.

“I’m Riley,” “And I’m Sam,” they introduce themselves. “We live right across from you guys, over in 403. You let us know if you need anything,” Sam continues, grinning at the two men. He can’t help but let his gaze wander over Bucky. He’s not as bulky as Steve is, but still incredibly fit. His hair is long, pulled up into a messy bun, the shorter hairs falling around his face. The tight, dark jeans he’s wearing leave nothing to the imagination, showing off his calves and muscled thighs and his round ass.

“Oh, you military?” Riley says, off to Sam’s left, directed at Steve. Sam looks up towards the two. Steve’s nodding when he looks over, his dog tags glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Yeah, Buck and I served together, three tours in Iraq.”

“What branch did you guys serve with?” Sam asks, grinning at the pair.

“Army,” Bucky replies. “We both enlisted straight out of high school.” Bucky’s taking in the two of them. “Where’d you serve?”

“Afghanistan. Two tours with the Air Force. 58th Pararescues, actually.”

“What made you leave?” Steve asks, his voice soft. Bucky’s shooting him a warning glare, but both Riley and Sam just shrug at him.

“Riley got his dumb ass knocked out of the sky. When he came home, I followed, because I couldn’t come up with a reason to stay without him,” Sam explains. Steve nods at him, solemnly. Bucky, next to him, is starting to fidget, tugging at his empty left sleeve. Steve notices and grabs for Bucky’s hand, holding onto it, and Sam’s a bit disappointed. It’s not a friendly, ‘get-it-together’ hand holding. No, Steve’s laced their fingers together and is rubbing his thumb along the back on Bucky’s hand, and it’s such an intimate gesture that Sam has to make himself look away. Of course the hot ex-Army neighbor would be dating Steve. It seems perfectly logical in hindsight, and Sam kicks himself for getting his hopes up.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to settle in. If you ever need anything, anything at all, we’re right across the hall,” Sam says, and they all say goodbyes and part ways.

Sam tries not to think about their hot new neighbors and fails. And that’s not to add in the fact that Sam’s still pining over thewintersoldier, a man he barely knows. He’s started to trade messages back and forth with the artist and he can’t help but fall a little bit more in love with the other blogger with every message he receives.

_thewintersoldier asked: you seem like such a cool dude. Like, you are the most honorable person I can imagine, it’s ridiculous. You said you’re living in DC, right?_

_herecomesthefalcon said: man, I’m not exceptionably honorable, I did what I had to, what was expected of me. And yeah, I’m living in DC, why?_

_thewintersoldier asked: well, I just moved to DC from NYC, was wondering if you wanted to meet up some time, maybe show me around?_

_herecomesthefalcon said: you want to meet me?????? O.O_

_thewintersoldier asked: of course I want to meet you, ya fool. You are amazing, and I’m constantly blown away by you. I feel like I’ve known you forever, but I’ve yet to meet you irl and that bothers me._

_herecomesthefalcon said: well, I know a place, a little café down in Georgetown that a friend of mine owns. She’s ex-military, too, and decided she wanted to bake when she came home. We could meet there sometime this weekend???_

Sam has made plans to meet thewintersoldier at the tiny little café that Maria and her girlfriend Natasha owned together. They were precious together, working the shop together full time with the help of Natasha’s best friend Clint, and Kate, the college girl that Clint had met through some archery competition or another. Clint was completely in love with Kate, though he’d never admit it. They always gave Sam free pastries when he came into the shop, because Sam had helped Natasha through a bit of a hard time. Being the only one of their friends to have a certification in counseling was good for something, as it turned out.

So Sam left the apartment early on Saturday. He wasn’t supposed to meet the other blogger until noon, but he headed out just after 10, shouting his goodbye to Riley. Riley just taunted him, reminding him to use protection, and Sam slammed the door shut behind him. He walked the block or so to the MET stop, jumped on the train, took it two stops across the river into Georgetown, and get off a block from the café. It was early still when he stepped into the café, but Natasha and Clint were behind the counter, chatting easily with one of their regulars.

Clint notices Sam first, breaking away from Natasha and Sharon to come greet Sam with a hug and a huge grin.

“Hey, man! What are you doing here, you’re not usually in on weekends!” Clint’s hearing aids are hanging around his neck, so he’s speaking at an almost uncomfortably loud volume. He was probably making coffee, since he usually takes them out to use the milk steamer, because the pitch hurts his ears.

“You should probably put your aids back in, man,” Sam says, at a normal speaking tone, but also signs it to him as well. Clint flushes a bit and tucks the aids back in his ears.

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot about them. What are you doing here?”

“I’ll have you know I’m meetin’ someone here,” Sam says, grinning at Clint.

“Ooooh, Sammy-boy’s having a date in our shop,” Clint calls back to Natasha, who waggles her eyebrows at him.

“It’s not a date! This is the first time we’ve even met in real life, we’re just meeting, keep it chill!”

Sam orders himself a coffee and stands near the counter picking at a cinnamon bagel left over from breakfast that Natasha had pushed his way. Maria, he finds out, is home for the day. She had come in to help open, but by time Clint had come in at 8, she had been feeling so lousy that she retreated upstairs to their apartment to sleep. Sam’s tempted to go up and check on her, but he knows that the ex-Marine is more than capable of taking care of herself, and when he checks the time, its quarter to noon, and thewintersoldier will be turning up at the shop soon. He had told the blogger what he’d be wearing and where he’d be sitting so there would be no confusion. So Sam takes his place in one of the huge, comfy arm chairs in the corner, and waits.

Bucky walks in at exactly noon. He waves at Natasha with a smile, who grins back, then looks around for a moment before his eyes lock onto Sam’s and he flushes before making his way over. Sam huffs out a laugh.

“So you’re thewintersoldier, huh?” Sam says with a grin. The light flush that had shown up on Bucky’s face spreads, disappearing into his hairline and his shirt collar, deepening to a bright red.

“I can’t believe this, oh my god,” Sam laughs, his face heating up in the face of his hot neighbor. “Let me get you a coffee, alright? What do you want?” Bucky collapses in the seat next to Sam, peering up at the menu board.

“Something warm and sweet,” he finally says, sliding down into the chair. Sam grins down at him and heads over to the counter. Clint makes some mystery concoction of his own, refuses to say what it is, and then hands over one of the overly large slices of cake from the case along with two forks.

“So I have no idea what this is,” Sam says, setting down the mug in front of Bucky. “But Clint makes some fantastic coffee, so it’s probably great.” Bucky smiles up at him. Sam settles back into his chair, setting the cake in the middle of the coffee table between them.

“I can’t believe we’ve been living across the hall from each other for 2 weeks now and we didn’t even realize it,” Bucky murmurs, a light flush rising high on his cheeks, whipped cream from his coffee on the corner of his mouth. Sam smiles at him and reaches across to wipe the cream from his lip. The flush on Bucky’s face deepens, and he lets his hair fall around his face. Sam sits back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap, averting his gaze from Bucky.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to make this awkward.”

Bucky’s gaze shoots up to meet Sam’s, panic rising in his throat.

“No no no no no, I’m sorry,” Bucky stammers, shooting his hand out towards Sam. “I haven’t been with anyone since before the accident, and even then, nothing was ever serious, so you have to understand, it’s been something like 6 years since I’ve been with anyone. I’m just, I don’t know, an awkward son of a bitch these days.”

Sam smiles reassuringly at him, reaching out to grab Bucky’s hand. He squeezes it quickly before letting go and picking up one of the forks from the plate between them. Bucky does the same, alternating between taking bites of the cake and sips of the coffee.

They leave the café together, Sam on Bucky’s right side. They head back towards the metro stop down the block, and while they’re waiting for the next train, Bucky reaches over and tangles his fingers with Sam’s. Sam just glances over at him with a smile, grinning harder when he catches Bucky blushing.

Back at their apartment building, Bucky invites Sam inside.

“Steve should be gone for the afternoon, so it’ll just be us,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. Sam takes him up on his offer, and Bucky leads him into the apartment. It looks a lot more lived in now that he and Steve have unpacked. Steve is, like Bucky said, gone when they enter the apartment, a note stuck up on the fridge saying he’s “at the shop for the day.” Sam’s not sure what that means, but Bucky offers him a beer and a seat on the couch, so he lets it go for the time being. Bucky pops a movie into the DVD player and flops down next to Sam on the couch.

Over the course of the movie, the pair have gradually shifted closer to the other, falling in together until Bucky’s head is laying on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam’s arm is around Bucky. Once the credits are rolling, Sam can hear the gentle sound of Bucky snoring. He ducks down and yes, Bucky’s fast asleep, drooling on his shoulder a bit, but Sam can’t bring himself to care. He just smiles and dips down to press a sweet kiss to the crown of Bucky’s head before he shakes him awake.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Bucky see each other more over the coming weeks. Sam finds out that the dog featured on Bucky’s blog on occasion belongs to Clint from the café. Technically, Winter was Bucky’s, but when he and Steve moved into the apartment across from Sam’s, they weren’t allowed to keep him. Luckily, Clint had a condo with a decent sized yard and a dog of his own, a mutt named Lucky, so he took in Winter. Bucky drives out to Clint’s place as often as he can to see the pit bull. He learns that Bucky met Clint through Natasha, who he had gone to high school with. He also learns that, since returning from Iraq, Steve had picked up tattooing as a hobby, recently getting all of his certifications so that he could work in an actual shop legally. Bucky shows off the tattoo Steve did for him, ‘ _till the end of the line’_ in script and a red, white, and blue banner underneath with Steve’s serial number on it.

After that incident, Sam seriously has to know if there’s something going on between the two roommates.

“You really love that kid, dontchu?” he asks offhandedly, while Bucky tugs his shirt back on.

“’Course I do,” he replies. “Damn punk’s been my best friend since we were 8. Even when I had nothing, I had Stevie.” Something clenches in Sam’s chest, disappointment maybe?

“You guys been together long?”

“Wha- Oh my God, you think we’re together?” Bucky breaks into breathless laughter. “Nah, man, Stevie’s got himself a girl, not someone I could compete with. ‘Sides, blonde and brawny’s not exactly my type.” He shoots Sam a smirk, pointedly looking Sam up and down.

“Oh,” Sam says, oh so eloquently, and dips forward to kiss Bucky on the mouth. Bucky smiles against his lips and clenches Sam’s shirt collar in his fist, dragging the older man closer. Sam’s arms slip around Bucky’s waist, cradling the younger man closer, and so Bucky hooks his arm around Sam’s neck. The kiss, which starts as a crash of lips and teeth and tongue, quickly slows and turns soft. Sam flops down on the sofa, dragging Bucky into his lap in the process.

Steve comes home to find Sam and Bucky curled up on the couch, trading soft kisses and watching The Office absently. Trailing behind him is a petite blonde woman. Bucky peers over Sam’s head and the arm rest of the couch at them, before shooting up off the sofa and enveloping the woman in a huge hug and kissing her cheek.

“Sam, c’mere, I want you to meet someone,” Bucky crows, arm around the woman’s shoulders. The woman shoves against Bucky’s side, trying to dislodge him, laughing. Sam comes over to join them.

“This is Steve’s girlfriend, Sharon,” Bucky introduces her. Sharon reaches out and shakes Sam’s hand.

“So you must be the infamous falcon, huh? Bucky doesn’t shut up about you.”

“Carter!” Bucky exclaims, indignant, while Sharon laughs heartily and tugs Steve along out of the room. When the couple disappear, though, Bucky warns Sam about them. Not 5 minutes later, while they gather up shoes and coats and phones and wallets and keys, they can clearly hear the _thump, thump, thump_ of a headboard bouncing off the wall and Steve’s loud groans. They clear out as quickly as they can after that, heading across the river to Maria and Nat’s coffee shop.

 

* * *

 

The next evening, after Sam’s returned from the city, Bucky comes knocking on his door. Riley is still out, so he’s alone. He opens the door to find Bucky standing there, clutching a manila folder to his chest, chewing on his lower lip.

“Hey,” he greets Bucky, reaching out to pull his lip from between his teeth with his thumb. “Come in.”

Bucky steps into the living room, drops the folder on the coffee table, and tugs Sam in for a kiss. Sam smiles against his mouth, holding the man tight against his chest.

“You alright?” Sam asks when he finally pulls away. Bucky nods, a bit reluctantly.

“There’s something I wanna show you,” Bucky says, his voice wavering. He leads Sam by the hand to the couch, before shoving the manila folder into his grasp and stepping back, looking away from Sam. Sam, confused and concerned, stares up at Bucky for a minute before opening the folder and coming face-to-face with…himself? The folder contains a half dozen sheets of thick, white paper with his own face peering back up at him in heavy inks.

“Y-you drew me?” Sam murmurs, gaping up at Bucky, who had started to come back around towards Sam. He nods at Sam.

“You’re a fantastic subject. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn’t be freaked out if you found them one day.”

Sam sets the pages on the coffee table carefully, before moving to haul Bucky in for a hug.

“That is the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Sam murmurs against Bucky’s cheek, kissing his face over and over and over. Bucky laughs, breathless and relieved, and clutches the front of Sam’s shirt in his hand.

“If I post these on Tumblr,” Bucky starts, murmuring against Sam’s throat. “Can I tell people who you are? I think I wanna start telling my followers more about me, talk about Steve and Nat and Sharon and stuff. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea, Buck,” Sam says, kissing Bucky’s cheek. Bucky smiles up at him.

When Sam checks Tumblr in the morning, the very first post on Bucky’s blog is a picture set of the drawings of Sam.

_I met Sam when I moved to DC with Steve. He and his roommate Riley live right across the hall from us, and they came over to help out and introduce themselves when we were moving in. Turns out, we had be sending messages back and forth on here, but we didn’t realize it until we decided to meet up for the first time, and found out not only we were neighbors and mutual followers (he’s herecomesthefalcon), but we have a few mutual real life friends. We’ve been seeing each other for a couple weeks now, and while it’s early days yet, I think we’ve got a good thing going on._

Sam flushes and reblogs the post, unable to contain his smile. Riley throws a pillow at his head from the sofa.

_Buck, you sappy son of a bitch_

Sam continues scrolling to find out that Bucky has put up a post for each of the subjects of his drawings. The very first one is Steve.

_Steve and I met when we were 8 years old. He was a scrappy little punk with a penchant for getting into fights with bigger kids. Guess who had to joy of getting him out of trouble more than a handful of times since then? That’s right, me. He’s my best friend, and he knows me better than anyone. He was the very first person I came out to, he was there for me when my dad passed, he followed me into a war zone and saved my life. So when I say Steve’s probably the most important person in my life, I mean it. He’s family, and I’d do anything for him. I love this punk to death._

Natasha is the only other one besides Sam and Steve that gets a post all to herself.

_I met Natasha my sophomore year of high school. She was new, fresh off a plane from Moscow. Her English was broken, she was very skittish, and she immediately wormed her way into my heart. I took Russian as my foreign language in high school, because I had to be the odd one out. So my knowledge of the Russian language was still shaky at best, but even with my limited ability to speak Russian, and her struggle with speaking English, we managed. We could understand each other enough to form an admittedly shaky friendship. As the year progressed, however, she taught me more Russian and I helped her with her English, and by that summer, she was damn near fluent and I could handle myself. We got close fast, which made her nervous at first, but the longer we were friends, the more stable our friendship became. By the time Steve and I shipped off to boot camp, it was nearly impossible for me to leave her. She affectionately calls me ‘брат’ which means brother, and I’ll admit, I melt a little inside every time she does._

The rest of his friends all get lumped together in a handful of posts. Sharon and her cousin Peggy get one post. Clint and Maria and Kate all share one post. A group of men that Bucky refers to as ‘The Howling Commandos’ are all contained in one post, men that Steve and Bucky obviously served with during their time overseas. While Bucky bares bits of himself in these posts, however, he keeps everything very vague, especially concerning his service. He continues to avoid putting a face to the art he posts, as well.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Sam?” Bucky’s voice is softer, higher than normal, almost shaky but not quite. Sam pops his head up from where he’s lying on Bucky’s living room floor. It’s the height of summer, and DC is sweltering, so the two men are sprawled out, Sam on the floor, Bucky on the couch, in as little clothing as they can justify, comfortably quiet.

“I think I wanna start doing videos. For my blog, I guess?”

“That sounds like a great idea, man. You can do tutorials and shit for your art.”

There’s a long pause, and Sam can feel the tension radiating off of Bucky.

“I think I want to do vlogs too. Talk about my military service, about my mental health, about my aspirations. You and Steve and Natasha.”

Sam hauls himself up into a sitting position, putting him face to face with his boyfriend. He smiles softly, fondly.

“That sounds good, babe. You’ll be amazing, no matter what.”

Bucky nearly flies off the couch in his rush to embrace Sam.

 

* * *

 

_Bucky’s wearing a black, threadbare t-shirt with the left sleeve pinned up. His hair is tucked up neatly in a bun, thanks to Sam. The lighting and the video quality aren’t the best, but they’re good enough to get by. In the background, you can see the mess that is Bucky’s bed. He looks rightfully nervous._

“Hey everybody. My names Bucky, though most of you know me as the Winter Soldier over on Tumblr. And today starts my foray into vlogging. I wanted to start off by just introducing myself.

“My name’s James Buchanan Barnes. My childhood best friend and current roommate, Steve, dubbed me Bucky when we were about 8 years old. I was sick of being confused with the ten million other Jameses and Jimmy’s. I was born on March 10, 1987, which makes me 27. I was born and raised in Brooklyn, and I’m bisexual.

“Steve and I, instead of going to college or getting jobs, enlisted in the army together, straight out of high school. Both of our fathers were soldiers when we were kids, and his Da was killed in action during Desert Storm, so I think that was a big deciding factor for us. His mom passed during our junior year of high school, and my parents took him in, because he had no other family. Even though the circumstances sucked, it was nice having another man in the house. Before that, it was me and my dad versus my mom and my three little sisters. My dad passed away the summer we shipped off to basic training.

“Steve and I served in the 107th infantry, in Iraq. We did three tours, adding up, in total, to 6 years active service. Which leads us to this.”

_Bucky reaches up with is right hand and cradles what’s left of his left arm. There isn’t much, barely a stump because of how much they had to amputate on top of how much had been blown off. He takes a few steadying breaths._

“I, uh. I was involved in an incident with a roadside bomb. There were two, actually. The first one went off, and none of us were hurt, but a civilian was. While my guys laid down suppressing fire, I went in to try and help the civilian, and when I did, another bomb went off. The man died, and I lost most of my arm. There are also some really bad burns down my side, and nerve damage to my left side. I had to be airlifted back to base, where I spent quite a few weeks in the military hospital there before I was transferred to a VA hospital in New York City.

“It was still 7 months before Steve came home, his contract up. I was given a medical discharge, and Steve chose not to re-up. He told me without me out there with him, he had no reason to be out there. I spent about 6 months in and out of the hospital. I went home after a few weeks in New York, but about a week later, I developed an infection because of the burns that became so severe that I went back into the hospital, and I didn’t leave for another 2 months. The next 3 months I spend in and out, sometimes being admitted, sometimes just going through outpatient procedures, to try and fix as much as they possibly could. By time Steve got home, I was up and about, learning how to live without my left arm.”

_What’s left of Bucky’s left arm twitches. He drops his face into his right hand, heaving in a breath._

“I couldn’t find myself a job right after the accident, because not only was I so off-balance and uncoordinated those first few months, I also suffered from pretty severe PTSD, and just going out of the house would trigger me some days. It was unpredictable, and no one was gonna hire me when I might call off at the last second, or just not show up, or have a flashback while I was working. I didn’t get a paying job until Steve and I moved here, to DC. He’s spent the last year or so working as a tattoo artist, and I’ve been bartending, oddly enough.”

_Bucky pauses, then reaches his right hand out of frame. He has a fond smile on his face. When he pulls his hand back into frame, there’s another hand in his, dark-skin looking even darker against Bucky’s pasty white skin. Sam follows the hand into frame._

“This is Sam. I’m sure a bunch of you saw my post last week about him, but here he is. This is my boyfriend.”

_The smile on Bucky’s face only grows when he says ‘boyfriend.’ Sam smiles back at him, just as brightly._

“Do you want to introduce yourself, Sam?”

“Hey, everyone, I’m Sam Wilson. I’m also a veteran, served two tours in Afghanistan with the Air Force. I’m a counselor with the VA, have been for the last 3 years. I’m from Harlem, but my wingman Riley and I moved down here to DC together after we were discharged. He was injured during a night op, near the very end of our tour, and we both left the service after that.”

“Sam’s probably gonna be around for some of these videos if they ever go anywhere. To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with these in the future. That’s it I guess. Later guys.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky only joins Instagram after Sam convinces him to. It takes a few months, but it happens, and once it does, Bucky becomes enraptured with it. Whereas before, he’d refuse to be a part of any photos that might end up on the internet, now he’s the one pestering everyone for selfies and taking pictures of sunsets and his coffee at Nat and Maria’s and Winter and Lucky.

His very first post on the app, however, is a simple selfie. There’s not even a filter on it, just him and Sam in the soft lighting of Sam’s kitchen. Sam’s got a wide smile on his face that shows off the small gap between his front teeth, while Bucky looks a little more tentative.

_Sam managed to convince me that I needed to be on Instagram???_

Sam helps him link his Instagram account with his Tumblr and his also brand new Twitter account. He shows him how to share the pictures to these accounts during the posting process, and how to tag people, both in the caption area, and in the photo itself.

Bucky documents the day that Steve moves out of their apartment using his new-found obsession with Instagram. About half the pictures end up just being Bucky pouting with their friends and Steve’s boxes in the background.

One of the pictures, however, blows up, getting more notes on his blog that some of his drawings have gotten. In the photo, which Sam had taken after swiping Bucky’s phone around hour 3 of the move-out, Steve has Bucky cradled against his chest. Both of his arms are around Bucky’s shoulders, while Bucky’s clutching at the hem of his shirt. Bucky’s face is hidden in Steve’s shoulder, his hair falling around his face, and Steve has his face tucked against the side of Bucky’s head. What the photo doesn’t capture, however, is the strained silence that fell over the gathered friends while the pair of vets sobbed all over each other.

_This is it. The end of an era. Steve and I have lived together in some capacity since we were 16 years old. We shared a bedroom in my parents’ tiny house during high school. Our bunks were next to each other in the barracks during basic. On base in Iraq, our stupid little cots were side-by-side, and off base, it was unspoken that out bedrolls went next to each other’s. For the last 3 years, we’ve slept all of 10 feet apart, only a wall separating us, and now he’s moving on. And while I’m so, so proud of him, that doesn’t change the fact that this stupid apartment is going to be so lonely without him. I haven’t spent a night without him since those six months between my discharge and his, and besides that, he’s been next to me for the last 12 years. This is it._

 

* * *

 

_This time, the video is much clearer, and the lighting isn’t washing Bucky out, or leaving him in shadow. He’s wearing a slightly-too-small Air Force sweater, the left sleeve hanging empty along his side. His hair is messy and barely pushed out of his face, and there are dark circles under his eyes._

“Hey guys. It’s been ages since I posted a video for you guys, because shit has been going down, so I’ll give you a little update.

“First and foremost, Steve’s abandoned me.”

_Bucky chuckles a little big, ruffling his hair as he does._

“Nah, really though, he moved out a few weeks ago, because his girlfriend Sharon’s roommate moved out on her, so she asked him to move in with her, so she’d have someone to split the rent with, plus they’ve been dating for, like, ever. Seriously, they met when we were in basic, they’d get together whenever they were both on leave at the same time. Only did start dating when Stevie came back home for good, about three years ago. So really, it made sense. About time, actually.

“In other, better news, you may have noticed that I got a new camera! Now, where did I get the money for this expensive as hell camera, you may ask. Well, it just so happens that I got a new job. It’s nothing fancy, I’m working the ticket booth at the Smithsonian’s American Art Museum, but I’m _actually_ making minimum wage now, which is $9.50 in DC. Before, at the bar, I was making $5.75 plus tips, which, considering I worked mostly the lunch shifts during the week, weren’t so good. Plus, I mean, my hours are a lot more consistent, so that’s great. Also, some of you have seen this already, but I set up an Etsy shop, and I’m gonna be selling some prints and taking commissions through it for some extra money.”

_Bucky shrugs, smiling a little bit. With the soft, tiny smile on his face, the circles under his eyes seem a little less severe._

“I might be moving soon, however. I’m not really sure how I’m gonna afford this apartment on my lonesome, even with the new job and the commissions. It’s a pretty nice place in a pretty nice neighborhood, and that’s a bit more than I can handle alone, so we’ll see what happens.”

_He frowns, thinking, and he suddenly looks older and so, so tired._

“Next week, on Friday night, I’m gonna put up another video, and I’m gonna answer your guys’ questions, so drop me a tweet or a comment or something before Friday and I’ll try to get around to as many of them as possible. See you next week.”

_He signs off with a small smile and a wave._

 

* * *

 

Curled up in Bucky’s bed, late that night, Sam asks Bucky to move in with him.

“What?” Bucky sputters, unable to verbalize anything else.

“Move in with me,” Sam repeats. “I’ve already talked to Riley about it, and he wouldn’t mind having you around if you, quote, ‘stopped looking like someone had kicked your puppy,’ unquote.”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at him then, just a small huff of laughter, but a laugh nonetheless.

“I couldn’t do that, Sam,” Bucky murmurs against Sam’s shoulder. “Really, we’ve only been dating, what, 6 months? That’s a little soon to be getting under each other’s feet. I don’t wanna wreck this.”

“Like we don’t practically live in each other’s pockets now across the hall from each other?” Sam raised his eyebrow, which Bucky could barely see in the dark of the bedroom. “C’mon, Buck. There’s plenty of space in our place for you. We can rearranging the living room a bit for your drafting table, and you can set up your camera and stuff in that stupid breakfast nook that we don’t use. It’ll be perfect.”

Bucky frowns, and burrows his way closer to Sam.

“Seriously, Bucky. Please say yes. I don’t want you to have to worry about where you’re gonna live. I just want you to focus on what makes you happy, alright?”

Bucky nods against Sam’s shoulder.

“Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll talk to the super in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

_The following Friday, as promised, Bucky posts another video. The background has changed, however. Instead of the plain white walls of his living room, or the messy, dark bedroom, the walls behind Bucky are a pale blue and bare. His hair is pulled back and he’s wearing a too-big black t-shirt._

“Hey guys! So, just like I promised, I’ve been compiling your questions over the last week or so, and I’m gonna answer as many of them as possible. So let’s get this party started.”

_A screenshot of the first tweet in question appears at the bottom of the screen._

“’Could you give us a tour around your apartment?’ Well, seeing as I’m in the process of packing all my stuff, and I’m not even currently in my apartment, that’s a bit out of the question. Buuuuut, I’m currently in the apartment that I’ll be moving into over the course of the next week, so I can give you a tour of that.”

_The video cuts from Bucky sitting in front of the camera to Bucky pointing the camera at the living room._

“This is Sam and Riley’s apartment, officially, but I’m moving in with them. This is the living room. As you can see, it’s pretty homey. The two of them have had like 4 years to make this place more lived in than Steve and I’s apartment was. These nerds have a lot of posters, as you can see.”

_The camera starts to move through the living room and into the adjoining space._

“Now, this is the kitchen and the dining room. They’ve also got this stupid breakfast nook that doesn’t have windows like a normal breakfast nook would have, because it’s on the inside wall over the stairs. They don’t use it, so as you can see, I’ve commandeered it for my videos.”

_He pans over to show the camera equipment, along with a small table and a chair. The camera doesn’t linger long, before moving through the kitchen and into a hallway. He ducks into the very first doorway._

“This is Sam’s room. I guess it’s mine now, too. You can tell what’s mine, because it’s laying all over the place. Sam’s a lot neater than I am, but that may have something to do with only having one arm. Folding clothes is a bit difficult on my own, so I just don’t.”

_Bucky moves back out into the hall. There’s a door across the hall that Bucky moves into._

“Bathroom. Pretty standard stuff, sink, toilet, shower. There’s way too much stuff in here for three men, but whatever.”

_There’s a quick shot of another bedroom._

“Riley’s room. Not going into too much there, because that his space. Anyway, he’s still at work, and Sam’s out doing some grocery shopping for dinner tonight, so I’ve got the place to myself for now.”

_The video cuts back to Bucky sitting in front of the camera. Again, the question pops up at the bottom of the screen._

“’I recently lost one of my legs. Any tips for dealing with phantoms pains?’ Well, I personally use heating pads on my shoulder and my side, as well as massages to help deal with the actual aches and pains I do have, but phantom pains, I have haven’t really figured out how to stop. Sometimes I put ice packs on the end of my arm, and that helps numb everything enough so that it’s not so bad, but it’s mostly a psychological thing, so that’s a hard question to answer.

“’How long have you and Sam been dating?’ About 6 months now? It’s been a pretty good 6 months, too, all things considering.

“’How are you holding up now that Steve’s moved out?’ Uh, well. The first week or so, I didn’t really handle it well. It was hard, ya know? He knows exactly what I went through overseas, and that was a big deal during my recovery, and I think I sort of made him into a security blanket. I needed to know that he was there so I could sleep through the night. He never got mad when I woke him up at all hours of the night, he knew exactly what to do to get me through panic attacks, and he knows me better than anyone. But I still see him, like, everyday, so it’s been alright.

“’My fiancé just came home from Afghanistan after his third tour, and has been diagnosed with PTSD. Advice, please?’ Look, it’s hard to give vague enough advice that will still be helpful, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try. I don’t know your fiancé’s exact scenario, but I’m going to go through a couple things. Panic attacks; number one thing, don’t try to tell him to calm down, and don’t tell him to breathe. That does nothing to help. If he’s hyperventilating, have him breathe into a paper bag, or in sync with you. Reassure him, but don’t be overbearing. Flashbacks; try and bring him back in the present, just be a comforting presence. There’s not much more you can do. If he’s depressed, don’t tell him he’s fine or that someone has it worse off than him or that he just needs to cheer up. Support him, be there when he needs you, give him space when he wants it. That’s about all you can do.

“That’s about all I’ve got time for today. I’ll try to answer a few more personally, but I’ve got a lot going on right now. That’s all for now, folks.”

_Bucky salutes the camera, grinning._

 

* * *

 

Bucky may be more than a bit intoxicated when they have a ‘house-warming’ party. It’s really just an excuse to get together and drink and eat pizza, but it’s a good enough excuse for all of them. The tiny living room is packed, trying to hold all of Sam and Bucky’s friends. Plus, Clint drags Kate along, and Natasha invites Thor who brings Jane, and Sam invites Rhodey, and he brings along Tony and Pepper and Bruce.

There’s more than enough alcohol to go around, and fairly early in the night, Natasha and Bucky start going shot for shot of the Everclear that Tony brought, mostly as a joke. Between the two of them, they drink more than half the bottle. Everyone’s a bit surprised that either of them are still on their feet, but also are a bit too intoxicated themselves to worry too much.

Riley, Sam, Rhodey, Steve, and Maria all gather in the kitchen together when Nat and Buck start taking shots. Clint, Thor, and Tony cheer them on, while Bruce, Pepper, and Jane try to ignore them from the other side of the living room. Kate spends the majority of the party trying to steal sips from Clint’s drinks, because, at 20, no one was letting the minor drink.

The night only progresses. The gaggle of ex-military in the kitchen build up a steady buzz on beers in the kitchen, talking about their military careers and their civilian lives. Clint and Tony get blasted on a bottle of whiskey that they share with Thor, who only gets as far as sort of tipsy before Jane pulls him away. Once Clint’s too far gone, Kate manages to wrangle his screwdriver from him before anyone notices. Natasha and Bucky, touchy-feely drunks that they are, ambush the group in the kitchen. Bucky face plants into Sam’s back, pressing kisses along the line of his shoulder and tugging at the hem of his shirt. Natasha worms her way into Maria’s arms, nosing at the curve of her throat and whining. When Sam refuses to give Bucky the attention he wants, Bucky stumbles over to Steve and drapes himself along Steve’s side.

“Heyyyyyy, Stevie,” Bucky slurs, pressing his face against Steve’s shoulder. “Why’nt Carter come with ya?”

Steve laughs brightly, hooking his arm around Bucky’s shoulder.

“I already told ya, Buck, she worked late today and she has to work early tomorrow.”

Bucky groans, pulling back from Steve. His hand is gripping the back of Steve’s shirt, and he turns towards Sam and reaches towards him before he stops and stares down at the space where his left arm should be.

“Ohmygod, Stevie, where’s my arm?! My arm’s gone!” Bucky shrieks at Steve, staring up at him in horror.

“Alright, I think you’re done for the night,” Steve says, motioning at Sam before hauling Bucky down the hall to his bedroom. Sam follows, watching from the door while Steve tires to settle Bucky in bed. He manages to get Bucky’s shoes off, but the moment that Steve tries to pull Bucky’s shirt off, he starts squirming away and protesting rather loudly.

“Stevie, noooo,” Bucky whines, clumsily pushing away Steve’s hands. “What ‘bout Sam? An’ Carter? Punk, you’re not even m’type!”

Sam laughs from the doorway, stepping forward to help.

“Hey, babe, let’s get you out of these jeans, huh?” Sam say softly, grinning down at Bucky. Bucky goes lax, smiling dazedly up at Sam.

“Sammy,” he coos. Steve sighs and retreats from the bedroom, a smile on his face.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me,” Sam murmurs, tugging Bucky’s jeans off. “Let’s get you under those covers.”

Bucky nods and lets Sam move him in under the blankets. Sam ducks down to kiss him, and by the time he pulls away, Bucky’s passed out, fast asleep. Sam smiles at him, and tiptoes back out of the room.

When Sam returns to the kitchen, Maria has Natasha cradled against her chest. The redhead is well on her way to passing out, so Maria says their goodbyes and ushers Natasha out the door. Pepper and Bruce gather up Tony and follow shortly after. Jane and Thor leave after them, Thor booming his well wishes and Jane trying to shush him. Rhodey and Steve don’t leave until the apartment has been picked up, then heading out together. Clint and Kate are both passed out on the sofa, so Sam and Riley leave them to sleep it off, each of them going and climbing into bed for the night.

Bucky wakes up in the morning feeling like he’s been hit by a truck. He groans and shifts, which is a huge mistake, because the sound is loud enough to hurt his own ears and the motions makes him nauseous. He buries his face into the solid plane of Sam’s chest and sighs. It’s then that he hears Sam snickering above him, so he tilts his head enough to glare up at the other man. Sam just continues to grin and dips down to kiss his forehead, brushing his long hair out of his face, and the gesture is so soft that Bucky’s chest aches.

“I love you,” he murmurs, freezing when he realizes what he’s just said. There’s no way Sam is ready for that yet, he thinks, starting to worm his way out of Sam’s arms as subtly as he can. It’s obvious he hasn’t been as subtle as he thinks when Sam’s arms tighten around him, hauling him impossibly close.

“I love you, too, Buck,” Sam whispers, his voice cracking. Bucky realizes the man is crying and panics, apologizing and kissing the other man. Sam pulls away from him with a chuckle.

“Man, the hell are you apologizing for?” Tears are streaming down his face, but his mouth is stretched into a wide grin. He ducks in to kiss Bucky solidly on the mouth before pulling back to smile at him some more. “I love you, James Barnes. I really do.”

Bucky huffs a sigh of relief, a grim breaking out across his face. He slumps against Sam’s chest, trembling.

“I love you, too, Sam Wilson.”


End file.
